


meet me in five, i'll be all night

by arzoensis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, morons to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arzoensis/pseuds/arzoensis
Summary: It takes Chris about twenty minutes to drive over to Mika's place, if he's extraordinarily lucky. It's just enough time for Mika to wonder if he's really going to let a man who texted himwydinto his apartment. Like, he's definitely going to. He's just not pleased thinking about what that says about him.





	meet me in five, i'll be all night

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from Khalid's "OTW."
> 
> Listen, if no one else is gonna write fic about 'em, then I'll do it.

Mika and Chris text a lot, despite the fact that they spend way too much time together during the day. From pre- and post-practice workouts, actual practice, games, travel, and everything inbetween, they're basically not allowed to let the other out of their sights. Not to mention meeting up together during the off-season to train and go to Worlds. And hook up. But that happens during and after the season, so.

Anyway, the point of it all is to say that it's one of those lulls in the season, where the Rangers get a couple of days off at a random time during the year. Mika's bored out of his mind after spending half the day wandering up and down Times Square with Pavel (although seeing how  _excited_ he was really made up for the sheer exhaustion of walking into every single fancy store they could find), and Chris hasn't texted him once. Not even a complaint about how the newest beer garden he found doesn't actually have an interesting beer selection.

So Mika doesn't feel bad or needy or anything at all when he shoots off a text to Chris.

_Chriiiiiiiiiis._

Mika stares at the three dots on his screen. They bounce gently for a long time, much too long to be natural, and he wonders what kind of searingly perfect paragraph Chris is typing. Mika almost wants to send him a coaxing message. _You can do it_ , he wants to say. _I believe in you. You got this_. Maybe it’s a declaration of love. Those things take time and effort and thought. The kind of thing you really have to dig into the well of your heart for, pull it out of yourself and your ribcage.

Mika’s screen had turned dark, but it flashes to life with Chris’ message.

_wyd_ , the text reads.

 

 

 

The shoulders of Chris’ peacoat are dusted with snow when he trundles into Mika’s apartment, stomping his feet at the threshold to get rid of anything stuck in the treads of his boots.

“Did you drive here?” Mika asks. It’s cold out but he feels overwarm in his hoodie and sweats, watching while Chris takes a heavy seat on the bench near the door and shrugs off his jacket.

“Yeah,” Chris says, toeing off his boots and lining them up against the baseboard with Mika’s shoes. “I parked in your spot.”

“Cold?”

Chris shrugs. His cheeks are almost beet red. His eyelashes might be frozen. “It’s alright.”

There’s a pause. “I can make you coffee.”

“I can think of a better way to get warm,” Chris says. He winks.

Mika turns smoothly on his heel. “I’ll make you coffee.”

“Don’t put any of your weird, non-dairy milk in there,” Chris replies, standing so he can follow Mika to the kitchen. “And don’t try to trick me, either.”

“You get almond milk or you don’t,” Mika says, filling the kettle with water.

Chris huffs, but Mika’s pretty sure he’s won this particular duel. Chris sits at the counter, backseat-brewing while Mika grinds up coffee beans and works his magic with the Chemex.

Chris takes a delicate sip once he gets handed a cup, nods to himself like it’s good enough (Mika knows it’s very good. It’s specialty beans and everything). Mika finds some of those little biscuits that Pavel brought along the last time he was here, shakes some out on a plate so he and Chris can share them.

“So,” Chris says, finally, when the biscuits and coffee are gone. “What were your plans while I’m here?”

Mika shrugs. “I dunno, I thought we might finish watching that TV show you found on Netflix.”

“If you weren’t planning on doing anything,” Chris starts, and Mika closes his eyes, preparing himself for what he’s gonna say next.

“Then I can do you,” Chris finishes, and he looks so pleased with himself.

“I should make you leave,” Mika says. “I really should.”

“And send me back in the cold?” Chris asks, all put-upon petulance. “You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

“I could be,” Mika mutters, even while Chris pulls him in by the waist.

“You really couldn’t,” Chris murmurs, and he has no business being… handsome. And close. Mika is having a little trouble thinking about things and words. “Not after you made me coffee.”

“I make coffee for everyone,” Mika says.

Chris gasps dramatically. He kisses Mika on the corner of the mouth. “ _Everyone?_ ”

He’s deeply distracting. This is very unfair. It takes a lot more effort than Mika is proud of for him to say, “You didn’t think you were special, did you?”

“Maybe a little.” Chris leans in for another kiss, biting gently at Mika’s lip. He cradles the back of Mika’s head in his hand, fingers scratching pleasantly through his hair.

When they pull apart, Mika presses his thumbs into Chris’ dimples, pushes the corners of his mouth up into a smile. Just because he can.

“I’m already happy to see you,” Chris says.

“You should be happier,” Mika replies, and Chris laughs.

 

 

 

It isn't too difficult to navigate through Mika's apartment to the bedroom. They've done it all kinds of ways: in various stages of soberness, sometimes in the dark, and usually knocking over at least one of the "weird" sculptures (Chris' words, not Mika's) that artfully decorate the place. And usually tangled up in each other in the most unhelpful way, but still.

Mika sits on the edge of the bed, watching while Chris struggles out of his peacoat and chucks it into a random corner of the room. It takes for-fucking-ever to get Chris stripped down to skin, and Mika probably isn't doing any favors by getting involved and stealing kisses every time Chris pulls off another sweater.

"You really didn't need to wear this many layers," Mika complains, when he has to move his hands so Chris finally pulls off his last thermal and knees onto the bed.

"It's _cold_ ," Chris says. His hand snakes up Mika's hoodie, hitching it up and over his head.

"You were gonna be indoors again anyway," Mika argues, but then Chris kisses just under Mika's jaw, skims his teeth over the thin skin, and Mika decides that he can worry about higher brain functions later.

 

 

 

Chris rolls out of bed, starts going through the clothes on the floor. Mika doesn’t know why he tosses the same shirt out of the way twice. There’s only one caveman in the room who leaves his clothes all over the place, and it certainly isn’t Mika.

“What’s the rush?” Mika asks, pillowing his head on his arms. “You can hang out here. I’ll make you breakfast, or whatever.”

“Are you asking me to stay over?”

“It’s cold,” Mika says with a shrug, doing his best to project an air of nonchalance. “And late.”

Chris was halfway into of his jeans, but he’s practically kicking them across the room. “Oh, great. Thought you’d never ask, honestly.”

“If you wanted to stay, you could’ve just said so,” Mika grumps.

“I’m saying so now,” Chris replies, grinning. He crawls under the covers. “I like your coffee better anyway.”

“It’s the same coffee,” Mika says. “You copied my setup, remember?”

“Yeah, but _you_ make it,” Chris says, grinning sunnily. “With almond milk, too.”

He’s already scooting closer, throwing one leg over Mika’s the way that they always wake up. He is completely and utterly transparent, and pleasantly toasty to boot.

Mika’s half asleep, which is why he doesn’t feel weird about it when he asks, “Why’d you think I’d never ask?”

“Well,” Chris says, drawing out the vowel. “I dunno. We’re not like that, are we?”

“Like what?” Mika prompts.

“You know. Dating.”

Mika hums. He blinks himself awake. “Well. Now that you bring it up, I guess we kind of are.”

“Maybe a little,” Chris says, thoughtfully. “Like, I don’t think we’ve been on a date, but that’s okay, right?”

“We could go on a date. Was dinner last week a date?”

Chris thinks for a moment. “No, 'cause Pavel was there too.”

“Then let’s go on a date,” Mika says, nodding to himself. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“You’re so giving,” Chris says, deadpan, but when Mika opens an eye he’s grinning wildly.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Mika says, and when Chris puts his cold hands against Mika’s back, he doesn’t even complain about it too much.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come find me on [Tumblr](http://arzoensis.tumblr.com) if you'd like! Yeah!


End file.
